Pureblood Disgrace
by Fire The Canon
Summary: Irma is dragged to the Muggle ballet by someone she thought was a friend. Now, seeing her so called friend's obsession with Muggles, Irma decides she can no longer be associated with her.


**_Written for the Ultimate Writer Challenge (write about a character with less than 100 fics in the archive)_**

 ** _Written for Assignment #6 (Lineage Studies - write about one of the woman who married into the Black family)_**

 ** _Written for the Gobstones Competition (theme - friendship, accuracy - yawning, power - clapping, technique - chestnut brown)_**

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 **Pureblood Disgrace**

This was putting Irma to sleep. Why had Felicia insisted on dragging her to this ridiculous ballet? It had started over two hours ago and still nothing had happened apart from the filthy Muggles dancing around the stage in skimpy costumes and weird shoes. Music was playing non-stop, but it wasn't the type that witches and wizards danced to at balls. This music was… dull.

Yawning, she turned to Felicia, whose eyes had stayed fixated on all the performers from the moment they stepped on stage. When the audience clapped, she clapped with them. When they laughed, she would laugh. Irma had not moved her mouth apart from the yawning that had come on two minutes in.

Why had she been convinced into coming in the first place? Felicia had made her stance on this Muggle filth long ago, enjoying her time in Muggle bars, at their shows and she was even dating one of them. What was his name? Rickard? Rich? Some weird name.

For some reason, Irma had maintained the friendship, but she thought this _ballet_ was the last straw. If Felicia was going to continue going to all these things, then they could no longer be associated with one another. While she went and dwindled her strong Pureblood status by marrying and producing children to someone weaker than her, Irma was due to marry Pollux in three weeks.

 _A good, strong, Pureblood marriage,_ her father had said over and over, beaming with pride whenever he told anyone. And it hadn't even had to be arranged. Irma and Pollux had met at Hogwarts, both sorted into Slytherin and over their seven years had fallen in love. Of course, Pollux had his side lovers, but what were a few discrepancies in the big scheme of things? She'd made her family proud with her choice of a husband and soon, they'd have many wonderful, Pureblood children to carry the family genes.

What did Felicia have going for her? Her family disowning her? Becoming an embarrassment to Pureblood society? It wasn't the life Irma wanted to lead.

Laughter erupted from the audience and Irma turned her attention to the witch sitting beside her, scowling. What a disgrace Felicia was, fraternising with the likes of this rubbish.

Felicia laughed again and suddenly, the whole theatre erupted into roars and claps. They all got to their feet - Irma the only one in the room not standing or applauding - as the curtains closed.

 _Oh, good. It's over._

Irma turned to her 'friend', about to demand they leave, when the curtains opened again. Another raucous sound of cheering erupted and this time the performers all stood in a line, holding hands. They bowed as one.

Again, Irma was the only one not to applaud. They didn't deserve it. What had they done apart from prance around the stage in shiny costumes and look pretty? She could do just as good a job, if not better.

Once the curtains closed again, the lights came on and people started to leave. Felicia turned to Irma, grinning. "Oh, that was such a lovely performance of Swan Lake, don't you think? I've seen a few, but that was fantastic. I'm so glad you could come along, Irma. We really don't do enough at Hogwarts about the brains of Muggles."

Irma said nothing. There was very good reason for that. The fact that they offered Muggle Studies as a subject at all was appalling.

"Did you enjoy it?" Felicia continued, oblivious to Irma's hard expression.

Again, Irma didn't speak. Felicia's smile faltered.

"Didn't you like it?"

"It's a bunch of Muggles watching another bunch of Muggles half naked on stage," Irma said bitterly.

"They're called -"

"I don't really care what they're called, Felicia. All I know is I've disgraced my family by coming to this wretched place. I've sat in a seat thousands of other non-magic folk have sat in, I watched them and I've… used their _money_."

Horror formed on the other witch's face. "You're not one of…"

"One of what, Felicia?" Irma spat. "A Pureblood who actually gives a damn about her blood status? A normal witch? Yes. I am one of them."

Tears rolled down Felicia's cheeks now. Irma had never once stated her dislike for Felicia's tastes before, hoping it was a phase her best friend would get out of. But tonight made it clear that it wasn't.

"You can go on with your boyfriend, disgracing the Parkinson name as much as you wish. That's not my problem. But my problem is that you're an embarrassment to me and I can no longer have anything to do with you. I'm a Crabbe, soon to be a Black, and I plan on continuing old traditions."

"Irma -"

"No. Don't touch me." Irma wrenched her arm away from Felicia who'd attempted to grab her to explain. "You're nothing but a disgusting blood traitor who doesn't deserve the blood that runs through her veins. Go and marry your filthy Muggle boyfriend and have his children. Hopefully the magic is weeded out of them and you're stuck with a dozen Squibs to look after."

Felicia's mouth opened and closed three times. Tears streamed silently down her face as the theatre emptied. Eventually, she spoke, her voice barely audible. "We're friends…"

"We _were_ friends," Irma corrected.

"Your wedding -"

"Consider yourself uninvited. I'll not have an embarrassment such as yourself there to ruin the day."

They were still standing in their row of seats, two of about twenty people left.

"Never contact me again, Felicia." She turned and marched from the theatre, too furious to Disapparate. And she didn't want to have to deal with the Ministry for Disapparating in the presence of Muggles either.

Standing back out on the street, she looked up and down. Where was she? Somewhere in London she assumed. Felicia had led the way, Irma had followed.

There was still a heavy crowd streaming from the theatre, some in groups, others being couples. They pushed past Irma without a care in the world. If only they knew what she could do to them…

As she turned left to find an alley she could Disapparate from, she saw a teary woman with a head full of messy chestnut brown hair walking quickly in the other direction. Irma shook her head. She no longer cared what happened to Felicia. The woman who'd been her best friend since second year was dead to her.

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 _ **I hope you enjoyed this. I like writing about obscure characters sometimes. They're fun.  
**_


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